In the Middle, Somewhat Elevated
Chapter 3: Human Writes
"WHAT? He is lying!" I pointed at Dr. Banner.
Banner shrugged. "Blood doesn't lie."
I shook my head in disbelief. "This is some sort of..." I didn't know how to finish. What was it? A sick joke? Psychological torture? "You have to believe me."
Banner looked at me like I was a lunatic. Arms crossed and brow furrowed, Steve looked like he was trying to decide who to believe.
"What else could I be?" I said desperately, almost hysterically. "An alien?" They didn't even smile.
"Oh my God. How is this happening? What did I do to deserve this? First Loki, now you two. Look. My name is Siri Eisen. I'm from Aspen Colorado. I've lived there since I was like three. I dance with Aspen Santa Fe Ballet. I have a dog named Bilbo. You can look all of that up and see I am not lying."
"I think she's telling the truth," Steve said. His expression had changed from one filled with doubt to one filled with pity.
"Okay but," Banner said pointing to the display. "Science."
"I'm not an alien!" I yelled in frustration. My eyes filled again with tears. "I don't understand what is happening. Please, I have to get home. My mom will be worried. Please just let me go." I started crying in earnest, completely overwhelmed.
I felt the bed move and an arm around my shoulders again. I was torn between pushing him away again and needing someone on my side.
"Siri, right?" Steve said. "It's going to be alright. We'll figure this out."
I didn't know how he would figure any of this out, but I let him kept his arm around me until I stopped crying. I was freezing and if I closed my eyes I could almost imagine he actually cared about me.
"Aren't you supposed to be restraining the prisoner, not comforting her?" A new voice said.
I looked up just as another man stepped into the small room. This one I recognized immediately. Anyone in the world would: Tony Stark. My stomach flip-flopped painfully. He thought I was the enemy.
Steve stood defensively. "Aren't you supposed to be finding the cube?"
"Can't. Not without my lab partner." Stark pointed at Banner. "He ditched me."
"Yeah, sorry. I was curious. Come look at this," Banner said.
"Siri Eisen," Stark tutted after reading the display. "You've been keeping secrets."
My mouth fell open and I felt my face flush in embarrassment. The most famous person I could think of knew my name.
"You know me?"
"Not exactly. I know of you. Walter worked for my Father. Stark Industries likes to keep up with their current and former employees. Speaking of which, does daddy know you come from a different planet?"
"My Walter?" I stumbled over what he was saying.
"Who's Walter?" Steve asked.
"My Stepdad."
"Does Coulson know you're in here?" A woman, this time, entered the rapidly crowding room. She wore black leather and short red hair and commanded the space around her with quiet confidence.
"What Coulson doesn't know won't kill him," said Stark, waving a hand.
"Actually..." the woman's eyes brows rose dangerously.
"What doesn't Coulson know?" Yet another person peeked around the door—a middle-aged man in a suit.
"Speak of the devil," Tony said.
The new guy, Coulson, squeezed in between the red-headed woman and my bed with a friendly smile.
"Isn't this cozy?" he said looking around at the others. The silence grew awkward as if the rest of them had been caught. His smile didn't falter as he waited for an explanation.
"What'd I miss?"
"Well, for starters, she's not human," Banner said, pointing to the holograph.
My temper spiked. I opened my mouth to protest but Coulson spoke first.
"That's supposed to be classified," he grimaced.
I thought I was going to cry again. How did this happen? One day I decide to take a vacation and the next I'm being strapped down to a bed and called an alien by a bunch of bizarre strangers. It was ridiculous. It would be funny if it wasn't terrifying.
How could I convince these people I was human? What would they do to me if I couldn't?
"I'd like to know what else S.H.I.E.L.D. is hiding," Steve said looking very irritated.
"That's what I've been saying," Stark said nodding and pointing at Steve.
"Look, this isn't the way I planned this to go," Coulson said. "You all have a job. I'm afraid I'll have to ask you to leave. We're being terribly rude."
I felt the heat of five people staring at me and I suddenly felt very naked under the hospital gown and blanket.
Steve was the only one to look me in the eye as he left. Again I had the dissonant sensation of both being afraid of the man and being, well, attracted to him. He seemed nice now, but that look he gave me last night, or however long it had been, was enough to know that he could be very dangerous. Either way, I did not want Steve as an enemy. I didn't want any of them as an enemy.
When the room cleared, Coulson pulled a folding chair up close to my bed. "Sorry about that. I wanted to get a chance to talk to you first."
"Are you in charge?"
"Not remotely. That would be Director Fury."
"Can I talk to him?"
"Afraid not. He's a bit busy today."
"Where's my phone? Can I make a call?" My mom would be freaking out by now.
Coulson smiled politely. "Can I get you anything? Hungry? Thirsty?"
My stomach turned at the thought of food. I didn't want food. I wanted answers. I wanted to call my mom. But Coulson was being friendly, and I wanted to him stay that way. I thought refusing his offer would be rude. I had to do everything in my power to convince these people I wasn't their enemy.
"Do you have tea?"
"Sure. I think we have black, green, or herbal."
"Peppermint?"
I stared into the tepid tea, yellowishly tinted, free from any leaf particles. The stark white of the Styrofoam surrounding the questionable liquid easily squished under my fingernail.
"Thanks," I said.
"You're welcome, Siri."
I glanced up at him hopefully when he said my name.
"I am sure you have questions for me, but I am afraid they will have to wait. I work for Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement and Logistics Division. I know that doesn't mean anything to you, but you can take it on my word that we're the good guys."
The good guys. Hadn't Dr. Banner said something like that? Did that make me a bad guy? I shifted uncomfortably.
"I need your help," Coulson said, reeling me back in.
"Okay," I said. Help him first, get answers, and, more importantly, freedom after. "I'll do what I can."
His smile widened and he flipped open a folder with a large logo I didn't recognize. They had a file on me. I gulped a mouthful of what might have been peppermint tea, in a better life. He cleared his throat.
"So, you're adopted." It wasn't a question and it felt random and invasive.
"Yes," I conceded, taking another sip.
"At three."
"Yes."
"Do you remember it?"
"No."
"Hmm." He traced his finger down a column of information. "Ever looked up your birth parents?"
"No."
He rubbed the corner of an eyebrow. I was supposed to be confessing, here, not giving one-word answers about my boring life.
"I asked my mom about it a couple of times, but it just made her mad. My stepdad has no interest in what happened to us before he married my mom," I added.
He watched me as if surprised at the number of words I had just used consecutively.
"I see. How is your relationship with your parents?"
"I'm sorry, but what does that have to do with anything?" I said shifting. "How is this helping?"
"I'm just trying to get a feel for who you are."
I shrugged, feeling annoyed. My relationship with my mom and stepfather? Normal? Only Walter was the only one who knew how much money he had, and my mother was kind of crazy. Maybe not normal. I was adopted, and a few years later my first stepdad died from a heart attack. I had four parents I didn't know very well: my birth mother and father, my adopted father, and Walter. And one I knew too well. I struggled to come up with a shorter explanation for a second but gave up with another shrug. He moved on easily.
"You work at..."
"I dance with Aspen Santa Fe Ballet," I responded automatically, proudly. Then remembered. "Or I did."
My leg, my broken leg jutted out in front of me like a huge rotting log. Shame, anger, and fear were etched into the soft bark. It was the end of my career and art; I was sure of it.
"I am sorry about that," he said, eyeing my broken part.
I couldn't answer him without crying, so I sat with my mouth clamped, in an attempt to stay in control of myself.
"It says here that you weren't paid much. A more lucrative job might arise."
"It's not all about money!" I howled suddenly. So much for staying in control. I wiped tears from my cheeks angrily. "It's not just a career! It's my life! It's how I live! I don't know how to do anything else to keep breathing! And you just...killed that!" I was reeling in my outburst. Agent Coulson watched me carefully, coolly. My face felt hot.
"I'll get you another tea." Coulson collected his papers.
"I'm sorry," I said. "I didn't mean to...Are you going to tell me why that doctor kept saying I wasn't human?"
Coulson sighed, taking in my fragile state. "He's not really that sort of doctor. And I'm not sure that now is a good time to talk about it. Why don't you try to get some rest? Excuse me." And without another look he stood, nodded to a security camera I hadn't noticed before, and exited, leaving me alone, cold, in pain.
If only I had gone to Australia with Gabe. We'd be soaking in the sun and dodging jellyfish in the waves. I wouldn't have been forced to choose between killing a stranger and Finn's life. I wouldn't have been mistaken for a bad guy and detained by a mysterious agency. I would still have my dance career and...and I would have to wonder about my humanity.
I don't know how long it took me to fall asleep, but it felt like minutes before I jolted awake again. The door to my room had opened. I sat up quickly, my head spinning, and fire licked my leg.
Steve's face poked into the room."Sorry!" He said when he saw me sitting up with sleep in my eyes. "I just wanted to..."
He looked behind himself and then stepped inside the room. He was still wearing that ridiculous blue jumpsuit, this time with red gloves. He held out a bundle of fabric.
"You looked cold," he said.
I unfolded sweat pants and a sweatshirt. They were soft, dark blue, and smelled like they had been stored for a long time in a cedar chest.
"Thank you," I said with real gratitude. I slipped the sweatshirt on over the gown and wondered how I was going to put the pants on.
"Look, I don't...I mean...I wanted to say..." He seemed like he was in a hurry.
"You've got to believe me, Steve. I was not with Loki. Not like that."
"I believe you."
Wait. He believed me? "You do!?"
"Loki's a liar, and I'm usually pretty good a reading people. I can tell you believe what you're saying."
Immense relief washed over me. I had an ally. "Can you get me out of here?"
He hesitated. "I think it would be best for you to stay put. The others–"
"Please! I just want to go home."
"There's more at play here than you. We have to focus right now on Loki."
"What do you mean?"
"The whole world is in danger of destruction if we can't pin him down." He put a hand on the doorknob.
"Wait!"
"I'll be back. Just...stay there."
Hours passed, or so I thought. I drifted in and out of sleep restlessly. My leg ached more and more, and hunger began to gnaw at my stomach. When the door opened again, the red-headed woman slipped in. There were guns strapped to her thighs.
"Hey," she said with a small smile. "Can I come in?" She said it like we were friends.
I rubbed exhaust from my eyes and nodded. It wasn't like I had much of a choice.
"I'm Natasha Romanov. I'm a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent."
"Right," I said, not really understanding what that meant. She sat in Coulson's chair, and without any small talk, she began the interrogation.
"Couslon's busy trying to get the boys to play nicely together, so I'm here to get a few more details from you. I've had a nice talk with your pal Loki and–"
"He's not my pal."
She quirked an eyebrow. "And he seems to know more about you than you know about yourself."
"Right," I said again, feeling squirmy. I thought I had convinced everyone I was not lying. I guess I was wrong. If Coulson was the good cop, bringing me tea, Romanoff was turning out to be the bad cop.
"I want you to walk me through that night in Stuttgart," she said.
I took a deep breath and told her everything I could remember. My heart was pounding as I spoke and I trembled, but I kept myself from crying. It was harder than I thought it would be to give her everything in chronological order. I ended skipped around, and near the end of the night, after I'd been hurt, my memory faded in and out fuzzily. I could feel her watching my face and my body language carefully.
She stopped me when I got to the part about the tesseract, but I couldn't remember any of the other words he said. It was like he had been speaking a different language. I wasn't able to give her anything else regarding what he said about it, so she moved on.
"You're a U.S. citizen. What were you doing in Germany in the first place?"
"It was a three-day weekend. I was there to see a friend."
"Expensive weekend."
I shifted in the bed.
"Why should I believe you over Loki?"
"Because...I'm telling the truth," I said lamely. She pursed her lips.
"Why do you think he is using you?"
"I don't know. He keeps calling me by the wrong name. Maybe he's confused. He has the wrong person."
"He handed you his weapon. Did you think about running away with it? What about shooting Loki, instead? I mean, if Steve hadn't deflected the blast and knocked you out, an innocent man would have died by your hands."
That hurt like she'd hit me in the face. The thought hadn't even crossed my mind. Why hadn't I just turned his weapon against him? Why had I been so stupid?
I hadn't let myself consider the implication of what I'd almost done. I had nearly killed someone. Me. A murderer.
And I hadn't realized that Steve was the one who broke my leg. My feelings about him were thrown into chaos again. I'd thought he was my ally. But he'd hurt me. Possibly ruined my career as a dancer.
Calm down, I told myself. You have to stay calm.
"The way S.H.I.E.L.D. sees it, you have non-human DNA, and were on international land, in the exact time and location that Loki stole iridium and killed civilians. You fired a weapon on an innocent person with the intent to murder. Loki did not touch you with his staff, and yet you were doing his will. You used technology Earth hasn't seen yet, a technology that we are still trying to figure out. And you're telling me you just happened to be in the right place at the right time by chance?"
My heart squeezed painfully inside my chest.
"I, I, I was scared and it was confusing," I whimpered.
"Tell me about the staff."
I swallowed thickly. At least she was directing the interrogation away from me and my huge mistakes.
"I don't know...exactly. It's like a magic stick. It changes shape and size and it blasts like energy or something. When I touched it, it made me feel...euphoric kind of. Like high or something."
"How did you know how to use it? How does it work?"
"I don't know."
"You seemed pretty comfortable with it a few hours ago."
I flushed. "I think it can just read your mind. Your intentions."
She watched me for a while until I started to fidget.
"Show me," she said suddenly, standing up and glancing at the security camera.
"What?"
"Show me how it works."
"I can't," I whispered, shaking my head. What I almost did with the weapon...the old man could have been dead at my hands. I didn't want to touch the murder weapon ever again. I didn't want to be seen holding it again. And I didn't want anyone to see how good it felt when I touched it.
"Siri," Romanoff put her hands on the bed rail and leaned forward. "I want to tell you something difficult."
I swallowed.
"I want to tell you because I want to help you. Director Fury is convinced you're a very good liar and working with Loki."
I felt all the blood leave my upper body. I lost track of my mouth.
"You didn't run from danger. You didn't fight for your life or your friend's life. You stood by as Loki tortured and killed. You had the staff in your hand. You could have blown him to Timbuktu.
"Loki says he knows not only who you are but what you are. He says he knows you intimately. Maybe he does know something about you, but that doesn't make you evil. Maybe you are both telling the truth about your identity. Maybe you are both who you say you are as well as who he thinks you are."
I made a face but she continued.
"I don't think you were working with Loki. I think you were scared. I think you waiting for someone to come and save you. You didn't fight back because you have nothing to fight for. Life has been handed to you on a silver platter. All you do is eat, sleep and dance. Everything is taken care of for you. You have never had to fight for anything in your life, and when presented with the opportunity to take charge, you didn't even recognize it."
I felt smaller than I'd ever felt in my life, and yet I wanted to shrink even further into my bed, under the bed, into the ground. Disappear forever.
"Don't be ashamed. A lot of people are like that. Most never have to fight to live. It doesn't make them evil. It just makes them...ordinary." She shrugged.
I couldn't meet her eyes. She was right. I was pathetic. I wiped tears off my face again.
"Here's the thing," she leaned even closer. "I think there's more to you," she said. "than even you know. I think you have the potential for greatness hidden away under all that fear. We know you are more than just an ordinary human; it's in your DNA. And I want to give you a chance to prove me right."
I blinked up at her. "What do you mean?"
"You know how to use the staff."
"So?"
"We've been trying to understand it. It doesn't work for anyone else but you and Loki. You can show Director Fury how to turn Loki's weapon against him. Prove to him you are not on Loki's side. And prove to me that you are not ordinary. This, Siri, is your second chance."